


goodnight, moon

by eurydiced



Series: lunoct week 2020 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Child Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Child Noctis Lucis Caelum, Childhood Friends, F/M, Letters, Lunoct Week 2020, Minor Sylva Via Fleuret/Gentiana, Nightmares, Stargazing, The Lover's Notebook, i'm 95 per cent sure this isn't how umbra-mail works but just humour me, tryin to make luna sound like. you know. an actual child instead of a tiny adult lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26176564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydiced/pseuds/eurydiced
Summary: Dear Noctis,Please look at the sky.Warm regards,Lunafreya*weeks after the annexation of fenestala manor, there's a meteor shower.
Relationships: Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: lunoct week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940125
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: Lunoct Week 2020





	goodnight, moon

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the late entry!!
> 
> (see the end note for content warnings)

Noctis awoke to a gentle snuffling sound, and the brush of something wet on his cheek.

It was good, really, because lately Noctis’ dreams had been a hostile landscape He went to sleep clutching his carbuncle charm so tight it left grooves in his little hands, and even caught snatches of the Messenger’s rabbit-like ears a few times, darting about his dreams. Probably trying, as best it could, to guide the boy to safety. Often, though, the creature was lost among the chaos of fire and sparking steel and unholy _keening_ of MT hordes—trapped in some hellish space between human and daemonic, though of course that wasn’t possible. MTs didn’t make noise. Robots don’t scream. If they could though, Noctis thought, it would be _that_. The hellish sound his brain conjured in the dark.

Carbuncle couldn’t protect him then. He woke with a ragged throat, sore eyes, and a clawing ache in his chest which felt far, far older than him. Maybe even older than the war, even though it had gone on forever and ever and ever and Noctis thought it would eat the whole world before it was done.

Usually, this specific dream reached its crescendo at the same sickening moment: letting go of her hand, though it hadn’t really happened like that at all. Watching the horde swallow her whole.

This time, though, he stirred before it could happen, blinking into the dark. His face felt damp already. But—he scrubbed his bleary eyes with the back of his hand, and he didn’t _think_ he’d been crying yet, though his pulse was thundering in his ears. And the ceiling looked darker than it should be. Till he blinked again, and the darkness resolved into a mass of dark fur and a pair of serene amber eyes, like little candles in a window.

Noctis’ breath caught. “ _Umbra,_ ” he whispered, hoarse.

The puppy nosed his cheek again, licking his chin, and despite everything Noctis laughed—a breathy sound. Like his chest had been full of water, deep and murky, and seeing Umbra again had sent little bubbles to the surface. He sat up in bed quick enough to make himself dizzy, combing his hands through the thick fur at the puppy’s neck, throwing his arms around him and burying his face in his coat. His eyes were stinging now, he realised, the threat of tears again; he sniffed and clung to Umbra and fought them back, little by little. Dad didn’t cry, so _he_ shouldn’t cry, not if he could help it. And—and Dad would want him to be strong, too, because he was gonna be king someday. So he _had_ to be strong, even though he hadn’t seen Umbra in _weeks_ and he was trembling and tired.

And Umbra, with supernatural patience, sat there and nuzzled his cheek and let the boy pull himself together. Finally, when Noctis stopped shuddering and could talk without his voice cracking, he pulled back to look Umbra in the eye. “Luna?” he whispered, breathless and urgent.

Umbra quirked his head, then turned around. In the glow of the nightlight, Noctis noticed that there was a sling around Umbra’s belly, and someone had tucked a letter into it.

Noctis’ heart skipped. He turned up his nightlight (an inquisitive-looking tonberry with a straw hat and swinging lantern) and tugged the letter free. In a looping script, the envelope read: _Noctis_.

Noctis knew Luna had survived the Tenebrae attack. His father had told him, and so had Clarus and Ignis and all the newscasters and imperial broadcasts.

But—but he didn’t _know_. He didn't _know_ know.

But he knew Luna’s handwriting better than his own. His hand started to shake, and he gripped his wrist and tried that counting exercise Dr Sana taught him, till he realised his clutch was so tight on the envelope he was creasing the paper; he quickly smoothed it out and turned it over. It was closed with blue wax and stamped with a sylleblossom seal. He almost didn’t want to break it. But he wanted to read the letter more. She’d written it on her really pretty stationery, with the flowery patterns, but the letter itself was short. It was so very _Luna_ , though, that it made his chest bubble again:

_Dear Noctis,  
_ _Please look at the sky.  
_ _Warm regards,  
_ _Lunafreya_

Noctis looked up. His alarm clock read _1:17 AM_. It was a clear night and scatterings of stars winked overhead, like the sky was a great big sea reflecting back the lights of the city, though he knew that there were a _lot_ more stars outside Insomnia (he’d seen them once, so briefly, through a sheen of smoke as darkness crept in at the edges of his vision and his dad held him tight, _so tight_ , till the world disappeared). But he turned off his nightlight (it made his stomach flip, but he told himself _it’s for Luna_ and that made it better) and squinted through the window. What was he looking for? His pulse quickened—was something attacking again? Should he warn Dad? He thought briefly of giant snake-tails and that burnt-rubber-smell, and it made his stomach roll. But then something flickered across the sky, brief as a spark, and Noctis stopped thinking about that. Suddenly, he understood.

His breath hung in his throat, then, but not in a bad way—it was like his chest had become lighter, as cool and airy as the wind off a lake. He nudged Umbra aside, braced himself, and slung his legs over the side of his bed. He wasn’t really supposed to walk without an aide present—Dr Medens told him his legs would still be weak for a while, and he could feel his knees trembling under him, a dull and now-familiar ache pulsing from his lower back. Still, he raised himself up slowly, clinging to the headboard till his head stopped swimming, and managed to make it to the window seat next to his desk. He pressed his hands to the glass and stared.

“ _It’s a meteor shower, Umbra!_ ” He kept his voice down, in case the crownsguard outside his door tried to make him go back to sleep. He’d never _seen_ a meteor shower before; he was rapt, scouring the sky for more falling stars. He glimpsed a few, but they were faint, and he wondered if he would see more of them if he were outside the wall like Luna. Then Umbra hopped onto the seat next to him, and he realised that Luna must be watching the meteor shower too. Maybe she wanted to share the sky with him.

And that’s—peaceful. A peaceful thought. The last time he’d seen Luna, she’d been a pale smudge of light sinking into a sea of hungry metal, and he’d reached for her till he couldn’t see her sooty, tear-struck face anymore and then longer still, till his dad wrestled him into a helicopter seat and left the rubble of Tenebrae behind. Now, if he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that Luna was on the seat next to him, safe. Except if Luna were here, she would be pointing at constellations and telling him stories about them. Or maybe just making them up. She admitted to him once that she did that, if she didn’t know what a constellation meant, and she sounded so smart all the time that Noctis could never tell the difference. He didn’t mind, though, because Luna was such a good storyteller.

 _The notebook._ The one Luna gave him, when she asked him to write and send it back—it was still on his desk, now with a dozen little notes he’d written for her on nights he couldn’t sleep. Umbra was here now. He could ask her about the stars himself.

He sat at the desk, turned on his lamp and opened the book. After careful consideration, he stuck Luna’s letter into the next blank page. Then he picked up his fanciest pen, and started writing:

_Luna,  
_ _I’m really happy you’re OK. Ignis and dad said you are but I didn’t know if you were actually hurt or sad. It was scary.  
_ _I’m sorry you got attacked by ~~Nifelh~~ ~~Niflhym~~ Niflheim. I’m really sorry about your mom. She was nice and warm and Dr Medens says if she didn’t help me I would still be sleeping and my legs would still hurt a lot more. Dad says she was really strong and I think so too, and I think you’re really strong and smart as well.  
_ _Is Pryna OK? I’m happy that Umbra is here because I was scared for them too, even though I think ~~mese~~ messengers probably don’t die easily. I hope they have been next to you and keeping you safe. Gentiana told me that’s what messengers are for but I think that’s just her and Umbra and Pryna.  
_ _I like watching the meteor shower with you. Please write again soon.  
_ _From,  
_ _Noctis  
_ _P.S. What are regards?_

It took him a while. He had to focus hard, because he needed to check a few words in his dictionary and he wanted to write it as nicely and neatly as Luna did. When he was done, Umbra was waiting, watching him with that oddly intelligent sparkle.

Noctis tucked the notebook into Umbra’s sash. “Take it to Luna,” he said, very solemnly. Then he added, “Please,” because Dad would remind him not to be rude to a courier of the gods no matter how much their breath stinks of meat sticks.

Umbra wagged his tail, licked Noctis’ knee, and padded away. Noctis watched him but still didn’t see him disappear—Umbra was there, then he blinked, and Umbra was gone.

“Cool,” Noctis breathed.

It was quiet then, and Noctis didn’t think he could go back to sleep; he couldn’t stop thinking about Luna, about Umbra, about whether she would write back soon. He realised he didn’t actually know how long Umbra took to deliver things, that maybe Luna wouldn’t see the letter until morning. But he wanted to stay up. Just in case. And he wanted to watch the meteors some more, knowing Luna was watching wth him.

He stayed at the desk. He thought about wishes, and whether he should make one right now. He thought about that time he overheard one of Dad’s scientists saying that the Starscourge might have come from a meteor—that it was _not of this star or its astrals_. But he didn’t like thinking about that, so he made himself think about Luna instead. He could imagine her knelt in front of the tall windows in her room, Pryna curled in her lap.

He counted six more falling stars before something licked his knee again. Umbra blinked up at him. Noctis grabbed the notebook a little too quickly. Maybe it took this long because Umbra had to go a long way, or maybe Luna had been busy reading all the other letters he’d written to her; he flicked through and saw that some of his letters were a little smudged now, like Luna had splashed water on them. Or like— Noctis’ heart jumped a little. He hoped not. He didn’t want to make Luna cry.

He flipped to the newest page.

_Dear Noctis,  
_ _I’m sorry I made you scared. I didn't mean to.  
_ _It's been really strange here. I haven't been allowed to leave my room often, and I always have a guard watching me, but Gentiana hasn't left me once so I haven't been alone. I think the empire soldiers might be scared of her, because one of them tried to come near me but stopped when Gentiana stepped in front of them. They haven’t tried again. Umbra and Pryna haven’t left me alone either.  
_ _Gentiana is sad though. Sometimes I wake up in the night when she thinks I’m asleep and I think I hear her crying, really quietly. I didn’t know Messengers could cry. I think she’s crying for Mother, and I think she and Mother were closer than we knew they were. I don’t want to ask because I don’t want to make her feel more hurt.  
_ _I’m scared for Ravus. I don’t know if there is anyone there to protect him. I hope he’s okay, but I haven’t been allowed to see him. Sometimes I send him notes with Umbra but he never sends one back.  
_ _But I’m really, really happy talking to you again.  
_ _How are your legs? Gentiana said you were healing well. I’m glad. I think I’m going to have to be Oracle very soon, so I have to learn how to heal too. I don’t know a lot yet but Mother used to say that white sylleblossom tea is good for pain so I’ll try to send you some soon, when they let me go to the gardens again.  
_ _I like watching the meteor shower with you too. Can we watch it a little more?  
_ _Love,  
_ _~~Lunafreya~~ Luna  
_ _P.S. I don't know what "warm regards" means. Mother used to end letters to us like that so I think it means wanting good things for people._

_Good things._ The ache in his chest was good— _warm_ —but it was bad too. Luna had just watched her mom die, and she was trapped in her own room like a prisoner, but she still wanted _him_ to feel better.

He wanted to stay up all night, if it would make Luna feel better too.

He stifled a yawn, and picked up his pen.

* * *

They wrote back-and-forth for hours. She wrote about the last few weeks, the unease and confusion: imperial soldiers flooding the halls of her lifelong home and transforming it into something cold and hard to recognise. None of them cared enough to water any of the flower vases placed around Fenestala Manor, nor they wouldn’t let Lunafreya do it herself, and the thought preoccupied her most days. She didn’t know exactly why. Maybe because Mother put them there and usually watered them herself, and the idea that no one was here to do that anymore made Lunafreya feel like she couldn’t breathe correctly.

But she told him about other things, too. Good things. Mostly Gentiana’s bedtime stories, which she’d started telling at Lunafreya’s behest, about the Astrals and the cosmos and Oracles of old.

And Noctis told her about his physiotherapy ( _fis-o-therapy_ ), how his father had been with him near-constantly in Tenebrae but now seemed busier than ever, and how it seemed like there was always a set of doors between them now. But it wasn’t too bad, because Ignis had started learning how to cook and his food wasn’t as good as the royal chefs’ yet but he was getting better and better and sometimes he even let Noctis help, when Noctis wasn’t too tired. He had more good things to talk about than Lunafreya did.

She couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t telling her something, though. Was he having nightmares, too?

Not that she told him about hers. Nor about the ancient voices which whispered to her in incomprehensible holy tongues as she’d lay in bed, louder than she’d ever heard them before Mother died, loud enough to make her skull feel like it was abou to crack; how she’d wrap her pillow against her ears but nothing could muffle the demands of the Gods, not even when she pleaded that she didn’t understand or buried her face in her toy chocobo and cried.

She _wanted_ to tell him. But not...yet. Not yet.

For now, she wanted to read Noctis call her _Luna_ and talk about Ignis’ latest attempt to cook a kupoberry cheesecake and his private tutoring and how _bored_ he was of learning about the emancipation of Accordo. She drew her knees to her chest, gently scratching Pryna’s ear and watching another star shoot by; the night sky was so clear here, glittering like a sheet of diamonds.

Footsteps slowed near her bedroom, and Lunafreya’s heart seized up for a moment, and Gentiana (sat in the armchair with her eyes closed, as they often were, except when Lunafreya caught her crying) turned her head towards the door. But the footsteps passed, and Lunafreya breathed out again.

Umbra nudged her hand. Her eyes were itchy from sobbing and sleeplessness, but she rubbed them and opened the notebook anyway.

 _Have you made a wish yet?_ he’d said.

A wish? Her birthday had just gone during Noctis’ visit. He’d tugged on her sleeve and told her to make a wish, so she’d giggled and asked for an ulwaat berry pie. It seemed so silly now. There were so many things to wish for it made her head spin and her stomach hurt. There was so much wrong with the world.

 _I don’t know,_ she wrote back. _I have too many wishes._

 _There’s a lot of falling stars,_ Noctis said. _We can make a different wish on all of them. I wish for another meteor shower tomorrow!_

Lunafreya tucked a small, fragile smile behind her hand, as if to keep it. _Ravus said you shouldn’t tell people your wishes or they won’t come true._

_It’s OK. I know you won’t tell. I wish for another pastry like the one dad got me in Tenebrae! Ignis keeps trying to make it but he doesn’t get it right._

She chewed the end of her pen. It probably wasn’t very ladylike of her, but Gentiana didn’t comment, remaining watchful and silent. _I wish for a new soft bed for Pryna and Umbra,_ she said.

_I wish I could go outside the wall and see more stars._

_I wish I could give Ravus flowers for his room to comfort him._

_I wish I was less sleepy so I could talk to you longer._

_I wish I could talk to the emperor and ask him to leave._

Noctis’ next letter took longer to arrive. Maybe because Umbra was getting tired, flopping onto his belly and dropping his head. But Lunafreya’s stomach twisted the entire wait, and when it came his handwriting was shaky.

 _I wish I could sit on your bed and read with you again,_ Noctis wrote.

Her stomach twisted more. “Me too,” she whispered.

She wished Niflheim had never existed.

She was so tired. The kind of tired which deadened everything.

She tried to think of something else to say. But words were becoming harder and harder to grasp, and she hadn’t seen another meteor for a while now, and Umbra was falling asleep beside her. She put the notebook down, rubbing her eyes again. Thinking of Noctis made her feel better, less cold. But she didn’t _want_ to sleep. She didn’t want to risk seeing the fire again. Maybe she could close her eyes, though. Just...for a second. Just…

* * *

She woke in her bed the next morning, the notebook tucked under her arm, Gentiana perched at the end of her bed. The skies were clear outside her window and the breeze smelled faintly of sylleblossoms.

For the first time in weeks, she slept without dreaming.

* * *

_Finally going to see you after all these years._

She read the words again. Then once more:

_Finally going to see you after all these years._

She traced the page lightly with her fingertips, as if afraid they might disintegrate if handled roughly, like the tomes in her family library she wasn’t allowed to touch as a child. Held her breath as if she might scatter them, if she weren’t careful.

_Finally._

_Finally—_

She couldn’t bear it.

Lunafreya snapped the notebook shut, squeezing her eyes against the sting of tears. Her dress was smeared and torn, hair tumbling from its careful braiding, greasy from days and days without a shower; the flickering heat of the campfire hurt to look at. Not for the first time, she considered simply laying down in this haven and refusing to rise again. She almost laughed, bitter and mirthless—call it petty, but what could the Astrals do about it, if she dug in her heels like a petulant child and simply... _refused_? Maybe Bahamut himself would descend from his lofty perch to correct her course. It certainly would be one way to make him answer her.

But she couldn’t breathe enough to laugh.

Almost as soon as the thought occured did the shame roll in, lightning after thunder; she curled over the abrupt wave of nausea, pressing her mouth into a thin, trembling line. _Foolish,_ she admonished, _foolish—_ to even _consider_ neglecting her duty? Even in passing, even in jest?

_They deserve better from you._

She waited, a hand over her mouth, for the wave to pass. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt her faith waver—much rarer now than when she was a child, these crises of conviction only ever striking in her weakest moments—but they never felt any less nauseating, and there was a din at the very edge of her hearing like that of holy voices. Once it did pass—once Lunafreya could drag in another breath—she opened the notebook again and flipped back even further. Her hands trembled. Their handwriting became scruffier as she went, morphing from elegant script to childish scrawling, and finally she settled on a familiar page: _I wish I could sit on your bed and read with you again._

She felt like she’d aged a thousand years since that night, and wondered if Noctis felt the same. Her bones ached with the weight of a thousand lifetimes—a thousand Oracles before her—and the Scourge stung her throat like dirty smoke. But—

Something flickered in her peripheral vision.

She blinked upward. Had she imagined it?

No. There it was, stark and winking, tracing an arc across the cloudless sphere.

Despite it all, something—a bubble of air—rose in her throat. Her lips twitched into a quiet, brittle smile.

“Look, Pryna,” she whispered, and the dog pressed against Lunafreya’s leg cocked her head. “A falling star.”

It tumbled from the crown of the sky and winked away. Just the one, and then the sky was still again. But part of her hoped that, somewhere, someone else had seen it too. She remembered it clearly, having clung to the memory like a blanket for twelve lonely years: the simple comfort of sharing a sky.

She closed her eyes. She felt—steady, again. Tired, but steady.

Luna curled her fingers into the scruff at Pryna’s neck. Tomorrow, to Altissia, and the Altar of the Tidemother.

Then—Six willing—to Noctis’ side.

Her heart ached—and so did her joints, her muscles, the strain of the Covenants sinking deep into her bones. So many rough nights couldn’t have helped, even with the regular reprieves of humble lodgings, offered readily to the Oracle by grateful strangers and accepted with not an insignificant degree of guilt. There were days where she woke up in helpless tears, unable to move, sick with pain and dread and _uselessness_ , and wondered: _is this how Noctis felt as a boy?_

She’d long since resigned herself to the truth, the inevitability of her fate: one day, one of these Covenants would kill her.

Perhaps it would be this one.

But…

Luna tilted her head at the sky pensively, bunching a hand in her skirts. Was it too late to make a wish? It was worth it, at least, to try.

 _Please let me survive long enough,_ she thought, _to tell him thank you._

Curled up beside Pryna in the firelight, Luna closed her eyes, and slept without dreaming.

* * *

_I saw a falling star tonight, Luna. I thought of you. Did you see it too?  
_ _I wish I had our notebook to write this in, but for now, I guess this scrap of paper will have to do. I’ll be able to tell you about it myself soon, anyway.  
_ _I have to go. Insomnia is waiting._  
_I won’t be long now, Luna.  
_ _See you soon._

**Author's Note:**

> i swear i didn't mean for this one to end up quite so heavy sgfdg;lkfd i can't help that these two are so depressed. i'll write happy lunoct in the future at some point i swear
> 
> originally written for the day 7 prompts ("moonlight / starlight" and "meteor shower"), and also lowkey fits day 6 ("nightmares")......and that's a wrap on l/n week lmao i wish i'd managed to do a piece for every single day but life didn't cooperate with me. on the plus side i have a bunch of now half-finished lunoct WIPs to work on in the future 👀 stay tuned
> 
>  **title:** goodnight moon (go radio)  
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>  **cw:** nightmares, references to minor and major canon character death, references to canon-typical violence and trauma, mentions of chronic pain, religious guilt, anxiety


End file.
